


Pride [On Hiatus]

by Childerolande



Series: Tooth and Claw [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: An Alternate History, Canon Non-Binary Character, Thank you Gloom for proofreading, Wine is now my writing crutch, and making sense of my ramblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Childerolande/pseuds/Childerolande
Summary: That they were beautiful was his first thought. A thought that halted in it’s tracks as the creatures nen aura touched him again, sending shivers up and down his spine.They were beautiful and they would kill him here, fangs welling fresh blood to tender skin.
Relationships: Kaito | Kite & Neferpitou (Hunter X Hunter), Kaito | Kite/Neferpitou (Hunter X Hunter)
Series: Tooth and Claw [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133291
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	1. Vanity

The wind whistled by, cutting a silk path through the tall grasses of the clearing. It was dark and growing darker by the moment, sky the barely there summer color of roasted peaches and heather; orange trails of light retreating quickly beneath the incoming roll of storm clouds. The wind had been warm and sweet and light on the summer air until a few bare moments ago.Now the breeze lay sleeping, breathing like a living thing in the grass; the heavy air promising a storm.

Kite felt all of this. Saw the colors of the sunset splash across the still figure that opposed him. Smelled the heavy ozone scent of incoming rain, heard the sounds of birdsong halt, the few 

bare seconds of silence stretching beneath the trees. Felt it all in the dilated time that lay between a predator and alert quarry. He shifted, one lean leg catching his weight, poised and straining in the rapidly gathering dusk. He didn’t like which side he was on in this predator-prey equation. Kite did the mental math, sizing up the creature that stood before him, misleadingly diminutive in stature. A pale slip of a thing with thin limbs that seemed as though they should belong to some barely-there adolescent,not attached to a monster painted in creamy tones of skin and hair, the colors of lost teeth in fresh milk. Blood red and too-pale white. 

That they were beautiful was his first thought. A thought that halted in it’s tracks as the creatures  _ nen _ aura touched him again, sending shivers up and down his spine.

They were beautiful and they would kill him here, fangs welling fresh blood to tender skin.

Kite didn’t pull away from that knowledge; the creatures’ raw aura told him all he’d needed to know. It was a power unlike any he’d ever known;  _ nen _ rolling back and forth with the crashing, brutish power of high tides. A creeping, paralyzing power the likes of which he’d only witnessed a time or two. 

_ Ging could fight them. I’m sure of it. Maybe he might even win, if he was lucky. _

_ But I’m no Ging.  _

Kite held the palm of one rough hand over the jagged wound that had once been his right arm. He could feel the hot rush of his blood as it spilled over his fingers, leaving great slick trails that welled past the callouses of his palm to drip to the forest floor below. He was losing a great deal of blood, despite the pressure he was placing on the wound. It was a great weeping mouth of an injury, jagged rises of bone wet with the sanguine rush from tendons torn and shredded.Kite could feel the earth below growing soggier by the minute, blood turning the hard-packed dirt to mud beneath his boots. 

_ I’ve got a minute, maybe less before shock settles in. I’ll pass out soon if something doesn’t give.  _

He and the pale creature stood, facing each other in the great open circle of the clearing. The creature, cat like and feral, had not budged from the place where it had landed a few short seconds ago, blood Kite recognized as his own dripping from it’s paws. It was watching him, huge scarlet eyes playful and malevolent. Kite watched it’s ears twitch, swiveling from where they sat nestled in that tousled bed of pale hair.  _ Listening for Gon and Killua _ , Kite thought.  _ Testing if they’re in range to fight next.  _ The thought caused something to rise in Kite’s throat; a hot rock of fear and dismay. 

_ Ging trusted me.  _

With that thought, Kite summoned Crazy Slots. It was automatic, a reflex as ingrained as breathing. The siren of danger blared in his ears and then Crazy Slots’ comforting weight was held loosely in palm, distant crackles of electricity buzzing along his fingers.

_ The mace.  _

He would have to make do. 

………………………………………

Neferpitou watched the human. Their heartbeat was a rapid drumbeat at the prospect of their first  _ real hunt! _ Yet as the seconds yawned on, Pitou felt the first tugs of disappointment touch at the edges of that excited aura. 

They were waiting. 

They  _ detested  _ waiting. 

The man, as much as he resembled them; all white hair and fair lines…. Was simply not of their caliber. Neferpitou could tell by the way he waited, allowing himself to weaken second by second.  _ Hesitating.  _ Neferpitou sized the human man up, body stiff but eyes rolling over the tall figure of him. He seemed muscular enough, obviously he was fit for a mortal human. Yet he bore no weapon, seemed to possess no method to defend himself. He obviously wasn’t a farmer like most of the meat the scrub ants had hauled in, so what  _ was _ he?

It didn’t matter, Neferpitou decided. They would kill the tall human first and then chase the younglings for fun. The two children had seemed fast, Pitou was sure that with a healthy lead it would make for a fun game to catch them.  _ Maybe I can play with them a little. I wonder if they’ll purr-ay like the rare one did.  _ That would be good fun, they decided. The first rare had prayed, had spoken with hands clasped to some  _ thing,  _ shapeless and vacant in the ether. Pitou had enjoyed it. Had listened as the human rare’s voice shuddered and halted, needles probing and meddling in the ridges of grey matter. 

Pitou swivelled their ears back, listening for the steps of the human mans’ companions. They would give chase in just a bare moment. This wouldn’t take long. 

They had just made up their mind to pounce when the lightning struck, arcing high and blue and silver through the mans’ outstretched hand. The bare energy made the fur of their tail frizzle, Pitou’s sensitive nose buzzing at the sudden scents of electricity. A distant thrill of alarm rang up and down Neferpitou’s spine. This was not what they had expected, this man was dangerous, a challenge appearing in their domain. 

_ A special weapon…. _

_ So he can do that stuff too? _

………………………………………………….

Kite watched the cat creatures eyes widen in surprise before he leapt, the mace that bore Crazy Slots’ face already spinning in hand. It was a clumsy leap, high and fast; Kite arcing his descent to the side. It was a bogus attempt to gain a surprise on his predator; a silly move he knew, but he needed to act now. Act before loss of blood rendered him too weak. Kite descended in from the creatures’ left, head held low and arm swinging in an arc to deliver a heavy blow. He would use his strength to inflict damage now, before it failed him and he needed to rely on speed and instinct alone.

Kite watched the cat creatures eyes, still huge and maroon in the creatures’ too-white face. As he descended, a splatter of his own blood, freed from the wound in his right shoulder spattered across the creatures’ face. Kite had a half-second of time to watch the cat creature smile, fangs too big and sharp beneath the full curve of their lips.Then he was on them, the heft of his mace whistling low and dangerous over the grass, slicing through the empty space where the creature had stood a moment before.

_ Missed. _

Unsurprised, Kite tracked the fleeting line of a shadow over the grass. He muscled the mace through it’s arc,not allowing it to lose momentum; spinning on one heel to wheel about and bracing Crazy Slots above him. He’d blessedly judged his timing to the tee, rewarded with the sudden weight of the creature as it pressed against the haft of his mace; the handle catching the creatures’ belly as it descended upon him, claws extended. 

Kite felt the creatures’ breath leave it in a sudden whooping gasp, felt the near silent  _ whoosh  _ of claws ghosting over the silver hairs of his head. The creature’s grasp had missed him, passing just over him as he ducked and braced the haft of the mace above him; the creatures passing claws instead catching his blue cap and sending it spinning into the brush. Kite had a moment to catch the creatures eye, albine face nearly aglow in the setting sun. He had caught the creature by surprise, knew by the tiny  _ o  _ of it’s lips, white brows leaping so high in shock they nearly settled in with the waves of it’s hair. He had a bare second to register the satisfaction of catching the creature off-guard before it’s eyes settled upon his; crimson pupils tiny and full of flame in the great expanse of those eyes. 

Kite felt his heart hit a heavy beat, an edge of panic drumming his spine like a great silver hammer. 

……………………………………….

_ Bastard! _

The thought was heavy with rage as Pitou felt the breath leave their chest.  _ Weak mortal piece of shit!  _

Neferpitou’s body tingled with  _ something,  _ some high and crackling feeling that crushed their chest, sending sparks clear to the tips of their toes. They thought it might be  _ pain,  _ yet they couldn’t be certain. They had only read about it, poring over the details in the clinical antiseptic writings of books and papers. 

Whatever this feeling was; pain or surprise, or a mingling of the two, it was unpleasant. A high and buzzing feeling that seemed to rattle Neferpitou’s fangs in their jaw, sending a keening whine through their sensitive ears.  _ How could I be so stupid?  _ Came the rattled thought as Neferpitou’s breath came shambling back to their lungs.  _ It makes no sense he’d even know I was there!  _

The thought sent a flicker of rage so hot that Pitou’s tail seemed to quirk and thrash all its’ own. He was a human, a  _ weak and pitiful human;  _ the fact that he had gotten an upper hand, however momentary, was troubling. Pitou ground their teeth together, muscles tensing to answer the call of their next movements. 

……………….

Kite flashed back to another moment in time not unlike this one. He had been young, a new Hunter desperate to prove himself not just to the Association, but to Ging. He had taken an assignment researching arctic wolfcats. Delicate, rare creatures of incredible strength and viciousness; untesting kings of the windblown north. It had been one of his first paid Hunter jobs and he had been over-eager to provide results. 

He had been foolish, had strayed too far with his camera and notes, desperate to take photos and to discover facets of the vicious creatures no one had dared to find before. Rather than finding glory, Kite had found himself locked in the research station, doors barricaded against the ghostly howl of the creatures. One had bitten him, had wrapped porcelain teeth about his lean arm and shaken and torn at him until he had been forced to draw his sword and strike it. Even so, it had not died easily; had rent and torn from him until he was pouring crimson across the pitiless snow. He still bore those scars today, hidden deep as shame beneath the concealment of his turtlenecks. 

He had killed the Wolfcat, had watched as the life had left it’s body, silken fur blowing white and precious in the unforgiving wind. He had hated himself for killing it, striking it down as it did only as Nature had taught it to. He had always hated taking lives, yet this, a lesson in his own stupidity had cemented it as a cardinal rule. 

He had carried the guilt of killing this creature for so long. Perhaps this was Nature returning the favor, sending a creature as equally vicious and beautiful, this time to take him. He wondered if the Wolfcat would be waiting there for him; teeth bared and ready to strip the flesh from his bones for all eternity. 

He wondered if it was fair. 

A cold sweat prickled across his brow and Kite felt his remaining arm strain against the weight of the creature as it crushed against the mace; body weight and momentum combining in a formidable show of might. Kite felt his arm shake with the effort as he wielded the mace, holding it with arm extended to keep himself as far out of the creatures’ reach as he could manage. The creature smiled, wrapping it’s hands around the haft of the mace, steadying itself.

_ Shit!  _

Kite instinctively tried to pedal his feet backwards, an attempt to pull back from the creature as it pressed itself closer, claws biting around Crazy Slot’s staff. The creature tightened it’s grip and, readjusting it’s weight like a gymnast, swinging it’s legs beneath it; heels biting viciously through the air. Kite ducked his head, protectively stooping to cover his vulnerable throat. One of the creatures’ heels caught him squarely in the jaw, it’s aim for his exposed trachea soured by his response. Rather than crushing his windpipe, the creature’s savage kick instead sent his head snapping back, stars exploding before his eyes in the rapidly approaching darkness of the forest. Kite felt two of his teeth crack and crumble with the impact of the creatures kick, sending bright lightning bolts of agony through his temples.

Kite staggered, felt his legs tremble as his vision greyed. He could feel that his right side was caked with blood,hot and soaking his shirt and jeans with each new heartbeat. 

_ I’m bleeding too much. I need to find a way out soon or …… _

Or he would be too weak to fight, drained of will and strength.

  
  
  


……………

Neferpitou landed lightly on loafered feet and withdrew, silent as a shadow to watch from the farther stretches of the clearing. They could tell by the way the man stumbled and shielded himself with his weapon that his vision had been compromised. He was defenseless, shambling and straining to listen for any sign of their approach. The knowledge filled them with glee, a bloodthirsty feeling that bubbled so furiously they had to clamp their mouth closed to stave off a high peal of laughter.

He was so helpless. 

Well no, not quite. 

Pitou took the moment to study him, watching the man as he kept his form low, ears nearly twitching as he sought them out. He wasn’t defenseless, nor helpless. He was  _ smart.  _ Almost  _ furrmidable  _ in a way that made little sense to them. Had he been truly helpless as the other humans had been; keening and wailing for mercy at the tips of brutal claws, well then it would be  _ different.  _ Rather, Pitou had the thought that they might be…. What was the word….  _ Disappointed  _ when their battle was done. 

Surely it would be a long time before a fight as good as this one presented itself.

Surely it could be  _ so boring  _ all cooped up and waiting for the king. 

………..

Kite’s vision came back in bits and scattered pieces, the grey cloud of his sight creeping back with maddening slowness. Kite felt the creature’s weight leave the haft of the mace. It had been barely a second, yet it seemed forever. His wound was impeding him even now, slowing his responses, clouding his sight. Kite gritted his teeth, wielding Crazy Slots in a high, protective hold before him; guarding his neck. He listened intently, blinking against the cotton-wool of his vision. He grimaced against the pain needling through his jaw and spat, thick crimson and the chips of his teeth hitting the leaves and dust of the forest floor. 

_ Shhhffff _

They were here somewhere. Kite shook his head, spitting again to clear his mouth of the acrid taste of his own blood. He was certain that they were here; stalking and watching him like the panther they were, toying with him. The thought sent a sick shiver down his spine and he wondered what had  _ made them.  _ They were incredible, an achievement of nature that could not be denied. With each passing moment of their battle Kite had witnessed their raw power, an overwhelming aura that claimed the throne of the jungles of earth. He spat again and knew he would be lucky to escape with his life. 

_ Shhhhfffff _

Kite heard the near-silent rustle of the grass and was already dropping to the earth, bare instinct raising it’s head to fill the gaps in his panic. He felt a cool shadow ripple above, the creature slicing through the air where he had stood a moment before. In his clearing vision, he saw the creature rippling overhead, so quick it was barely more than a blur, feet already extending with the effortless instinct of a cats’ to catch itself. Kite spun, whipping out a foot just as the creature landed and catching it with a vicious leg sweep. He hadn’t held back, the force of his kick could surely have shattered the legs of any human; yet there was nothing more than a furious yowl as the creature’s feet shot out from beneath it. 

There was the quiet  _ whump  _ of the creature hitting the earth but Kite scarcely heard it. He was already turning over, feet working overtime to scrabble beneath him for purchase. He blinked, clearing his vision at last and dug his remaining hand into the grass to help right himself. 

_ I stand a chance if I run. Maybe I can hide before I black out. _

This thought was interrupted by a brutal tug at his hair. His hair had always been his only beauty, he thought, and he had foolishly allowed it to grow long. Had treasured its silvered shine. The thought brought a mirthless smile to his face, a grimace pulled taut as tears sprung to his eyes at the merciless hands in his hair. He felt a few hairs tear free, felt himself lurch forward, hope springing again in his chest. And then he was caught again, a clawed hand wrapping itself end over end in Kite’s locks, pulling him back with a muscled arm that far surpassed the size of the diminutive creature he had fought. 

_ This is it.  _

_ Finished by my own meager vanity.  _

_ How fitting. _

_ ……………………………………. _

  
  


Neferpitou huffed and puffed, breath coming out in hard gasps as they wound their claws in the humans hair. 

He had  _ embarrassed them.  _

Had dared to try and match their speed, their raw power and strength.

Had fought and dishonored them, casting mud upon their feet as though they were some filthy mortal creature. Neferpitou ground their teeth together, jaw cracking dangerously.  _ Human filth with gumption.  _ The thought made them sick. 

Pitou wound the mans’ long silver hair about their paw, his locks smooth as silk and scented with the tales of fireside. Pitou watched, maroon eyes aglow with an internal flame of cruel joy as the man arched backwards; his remaining leanly muscled arm reaching back to scrabble at his hair. A desperate and pitiful attempt to break Neferpitou’s hold. 

  
They found it….  _ Adorable.  _ Or at least something close to it. 

_ He will die soon.  _

The thought was matter of fact, a cold touch of nature. He was weak, therefore he would die. Neferpitou knew this as one knows any facts shaded in the realm of beasts; the forest was all bared fangs and the rich smell of decay and dirt. 

  
_ The human is weak and he will die.  _

Neferpitou watched with mute interest as the yawning mouth of the mans’ wound, what had once been an arm; spat and sprayed it’s crimson spirits. The smell was like that of ichor, golden and heavy and sweet; an aroma of fine wine spritzed to the wandering creatures that strode the forest. They would come and feast on him soon; the worms and wolves and beetles alike would taste of their foes’ tender flesh. Neferpitou frowned at the thought. 

Gritting their teeth, Neferpitou tugged again at the rope of the mans hair, yanking him off of his knees and back. The man landed in a puff of dust, hard on the bones of his skinny flanks. Pitou watched the mans’ chest rise and fall with panic, muscles straining at their crushing hold. It brought a fanged grin to Neferpitou’s face, even as their eyes roved across the mans’ body, committing their first kill to memory. 

  
Neferpitou’s eyes moved to the mans’ face and their smile dropped as though they had been struck. He was looking at them. His cap had been knocked askew and for the first time, the mans’ eyes were visible; huge hooded eyes the color of alders before dusk. Veiled thinly beneath long snowy lashes. His eyes were beautiful, yet that did not stop them. He was  _ angry _ ,  _ defiant.  _ Those eyes were narrowed and daring, even as the soft flesh of his throat beat open and vulnerable beneath their gaze. 

_ I could kill him right now. I could do it! _

Yet there was no fear in his eyes. The thought made Neferpitou hesitate and they looked at him again. He was gaunt, the beaten too-skinny flesh of a scavenger clinging to his bones; his face all hard angles and planes, eyes sunken deep and burning bright in his too-pale face. 

Something was wrong. 

Something felt suddenly  _ off,  _ yet they could not explain quite  _ why.  _ Neferpitou could only feel the incoming freight train whistle of danger that echoed in their ears. The knowledge that they could not kill this man arrived suddenly and with great weight, a crashing realization that made Neferpitou’s tail frizzle and stiffen. 

What was it? Was this  _ guilt? _

………………..

Kite had made a vow when he was very young. A promise made and borne to no one but Kite himself; that he would hold the gaze of whatever creature ended him. He had made this creed so long ago he could hardly remember it, thought that maybe it had been with the expectation that some long suffering storekeep at the market would finally end him. The thought had surely been formed with the image of a mortal human snuffing out the candle of his life in some dank and dim alley. Kite had been a brave man, lacking sense, lacking substance yet never lacking resolve. It had been another vanity of his, long held close to heart, a secret.

Today was hardly the day for defying his vanities, he thought. The idea was suddenly so funny, so perverse here in the underdark of the forest. A ridiculous parody of what nature truly was. Even so, Kite stiffened, locking eyes with the creature as it pulled his head back. Kite saw the cruel flash of claws and waited, throat exposed like a virgin plane. 

The creature paused. 

Kite watched as the creature halted, eyes huge and furious, catching the leavening trails of the sun. Reflecting those hues back, mixing with the cruel sanguine color of their eyes. They were a killer, every inch of their body reflected it. Yet they did not move. 

Hesitated.

The two of them waited; Kite still drawn back, muscles of his chest drawn and aching. Yet he could feel something. A cold and creeping sensation that seemed to crawl the length of his body. A numbness seized his feet first, working up and over his legs, even as Kite felt the hammer of his heart hitch and slow. 

_ I’ve lost too much blood….. _

Kite resolutely held his eyes open, fighting the fluttering of his lashes as they closed and opened; each time slower than the last. He couldn’t feel anything below his chest, almost as though he were held beneath ice water. 

Yet he held the creatures’ gaze, his eyes staring into the scarlet pinpoints of theirs, vision obscured by the yawning stretches of time between blinks. He forced his eyes open, felt his lids defy him, felt them stutter closed again. EAch time, the creature was there, held still as stone, claws still raised; eyes bright and burning even in the dark. 

_ God damn it.  _

And then he was gone, slipping beneath the cold water of unconsciousness. He felt himself plunge beneath waking and was lost. 

……………………………..

When Kite awoke hours later, it was in the cool dark before the new light of day. He cracked open an eye and watched, thoughts stuffy and lost beneath the thick cloud of shock. He watched a beetle crawl by in amazing definition, it’s glossy shell reflecting the stars soon to be lost to the day. 

He coughed and immediately regretted it. The sensation sent needles through his ribs, striking at flesh so sore and beaten he wondered if he was anything more than bone and raw meat. Kite struggled to raise his head, planting his remaining hand beneath him in the earth and raised himself. 

From there it was a blur. 


	2. Sloth

When Kite managed to haul himself out of the dense wilderness that separated him from the borders of the NGL, he was barely a creature known to himself. He was certain he must be quite a sight, long white hair now matted and tangled with blood. His blue cap was long gone and though he had searched for his missing right arm, casting a desperate hand through the brush, he had found nothing. He had managed to pack his wound in a clumsy poultice, packing the stump where his right arm had once been with mosses and mud, the torn remnants of his shirt wrapped about in a make-do tourniquet. Now he stood, pale lipped and streaked with mud and blood, revelling in the last of the dappled shade the forest had to offer. 

He pressed one step past the green grasses of the forest, casting a bleary eye to the sand-blasted desert that was to come. Sweat trickled its way into his eyes, stinging and biting. Kite blinked, working to clear his vision. Had his eyesight always been so poor? So blurred about it’s edges? He didn’t think so, yet here he was, squinting in the beating sun to try and make sense of the landscape, the suns glare needling through his lashes. He thought he could barely see the outlines of a ridge of mesa that seemed familiar; hadn’t he and the boys travelled below that ridgeline to reach the forest? His memory was hazy, but he thought he could recall releasing their horses somewhere near that ridgeline….. 

_ What I wouldn’t give for a horse to ride now. Hell, even a pack mule would do.  _

Kite licked his lips, salt stinging again at the cracked surface of his tongue. He could do this. He had survived worse. 

…………………………..

A beetle crawled across the desert, pointed legs marking only the smallest of tics in the sand to mark it’s passing. 

It had found food. An incredible bounty, enormous rations which would surely last against the ongoing hungry months. Creatures did not die naturally anymore, what’s worse, the corpses were more often than not simply taken away. Spirited somewhere outside of the natural food chain. It had been a hard time, but now it was solved! The hungry days would be resolved. 

Beetle carried it’s treasure, a discarded wheat seed with claws that were resolute. It would survive, it would not fail! Yet as it continued it’s trek across the desert a figure appeared. Beetle drew closer and found that it was a man, broken and pulling itself along in the sand. 

_ It will die soon. I’ll come back for it.  _

These were beetles thoughts as it scuttled ahead, nervous as the humans’ eyes tracked it’s movement. 

Beetle marked the mans’ location, would return soon. Two feasts in one day. His luck was certainly turning around. 

…………………………….

The sun had begun to set and had he had the presence of mind to do so, he would have thanked any Gods who happened to be listening. With his forehead pressed in the fine white sand of the desert, the cold looks of any Gods were the farthest thing from Kite’s sun addled mind. He had run for as long as he could manage, fighting for each precious mile as his reserves of stamina burned lower. He’d reasoned that in his current condition, he’d be worse than useless in a fight and if he didn’t get medical attention soon, he’d be as good as dead come tomorrow. 

So he had run. 

Had run, allowing his mind to wander as his feet beat a familiar  _ thwap thwap thwap  _ from what felt like miles below. He had thought about the creature, the ant. 

_ How does a creature become that powerful? What kind of humans have the chimera ants been eating?  _ He could only hope that they hadn’t figured out the finer points of  _ nen _ . While the white creature had certainly had a terrifying  _ nen  _ aura, they hadn’t used any sort of abilities. He wondered if that meant he was simply too weak for them to bother, or if they hadn’t quite figured out how to use an ability. Kite wavered between the two choices before deciding to believe the latter. It wasn’t out of only a sense of vanity, rather, he was holding out hope. If the Chimera ants were as powerful as they seemed  _ and  _ had the use of  _ nen  _ abilities already? It would be over.He could only hope his luck would hold out. That thought had, foolishly enough, heralded the end of his stamina. Scarcely had he finished the thought when he felt his ankle give way; rough sands and stones rushing up to meet him as he fell face-first in the shadow of the ridgeline. Kite felt his sharp nose grind painfully along the dust and dirt, the high grit puffing up to fill his lungs and coat his tongue. He lay there a moment, shifting to rest his cheek along the sand of the valley floor. He was tired, more tired than he’d been in a long time. Despite the heat of the day, his skin felt too cold and clammy with a sweat that made him shiver. The stump of his right arm thudded with each beat of his heart, a dull ache settling deeply into the bones of his shoulder. With each pulse of his heartbeat he felt the ache of his bones swell and settle. Kite found that if he focused on it for more than a moment the very sensation made him queasy. Kite furrowed his brows, desperately searching for something else to focus on. Kite found himself watching with disinterested eyes as a beetle struggled and strode along in the fine sand. It carried a tiny piece of refuse, some seed or speck of food raised high above it’s shiny body. 

Kite watched the bug until he could no longer track it, the tiny creature lost in the shadows of the mesa. 

He felt his chest rise and fall, pushing against the red earth. Kite wondered vaguely how long it might take for someone to find him here, or if he might be at peace here for years to come. It was a silly thought, the nonsense thinking of heat stroke. Kite found himself watching with disinterested eyes as a termite struggled and strode along in the fine sand. 

Raising his face from the indignity of the dust he coughed and sputtered. Placed his remaining left hand in the fine grit and struggled to raise himself. When he found he could not, he sighed and began to crawl. 

………………………….

Neferpitou stood, quiet and still in the gloom of their lab. The hum of machines, the clicking of dials, it was all a familiar rhythm now. A calming background to their thoughts as they pored over numbers and vials and powders. It was there, it’s own small melody playing behind Pitou’s thoughts as they stared at the leanly muscled arm that floated within it’s glass tube. 

Neferpitou flicked their tail as though banishing a thought. The arm, the trophy, what had once belonged to their quarry, had been of surprisingly soft skin and supple muscle. Neferpitou was glad they’d been timely enough to grab it before retreating. Any more time lost to the elements and it surely would have been nothing more than unattachable meat. A grin worked it’s way across their lips at the thought. 

_ Meat.  _

_ Was he more than that?  _

They didn’t know. Their tail twitched again at the thought, carving an irritated line through the air. 

_ I could eat him. Purrhaps I will. I’ll eat him slow and maybe keep him living as long as I can. Piece by piece I’ll mince him up and keep him like a little pet.  _

He was handsome. Of course he was, the knowledge was no more than a bare anatomical fact. He had been handsome and Neferpitou had let him get away. Had it only been due to that fact? Some weak human holdover of chemical intoxicants? A neurochemical emergency button some human vestige within them had pushed out of error or desperation? 

_ Damn.  _

They hadn’t been able to kill him before. That thought troubled them, had kept them awake and on patrol around the colony. It had been something to do with his  _ eyes  _ the way he had looked at them. Neferpitou wondered distantly if it could be some sort of  _ nen  _ ability. They would have to ask. Would have to needle and poke and bite and taste at him next time until he shared that secret. 

They would meet again. Neferpitou would make sure of it. 

Neferpitou looked at the blue cap clutched in one clawed hand, the fabric of it’s brim torn and streaked with dust and blood. It’s smell was divine, that heavy ichor scent thick on the brim, the forest-fire scent of the man beneath it. Using one claw, as delicately as one would stitch a blanket, Neferpitou tore two gouges in the top of the cap. They settled the cap upon their head, ears making a freed appearance through the new holes up top. 

_ He’s gonna want this back. He can come and get it.  _

………………………..

The beetle clicked and shifted, turning North, South and then West before finally settling on a direction. The beetle scuttled East, it’s direction guided by the electric crackle of it’s antennae. It was registering something, a trio of figures, nothing more than a blip of heat registering on it’s internal map; the steps of the creatures amplified and tinny over the distance. 

The beetle trundled along, carapaced legs shuffling beneath it’s shiny armored back. It had no reason to pursue these creatures that could be defined as intelligent; was not seeking the distant figures for even idle curiosity. Rather, it sought only to protect it’s life. The forest was changing, new creatures seeming to appear at random, staking out precious parcels of territory as though it were a birthright. Territory was harder to come by and harder still to defend for the larger animals and the creature, minute as it may be cared nothing for the comings and goings of big creatures. It was defenseless from them anyway and it’s dedicated needs were small, fought in battles only with other insects at it’s level. The beetle had it’s territory, it’s home so small and insignificant that surely these three large beings wouldn’t notice it. The beetle pursued them for food. All big mammals, humans great and small and all matter of horses, cows and livestock died quickly these days. Great creatures that once lived decades and passed on to be eaten by the beetle and it’s kin were now wiped out quickly; corpses magicked away and leaving the smaller creatures of nature to grow hungry. These big creatures would die soon, the beetle in it’s tiny mind of pulses and minute instincts was sure of it. It was the way of the forest now. 

  
The beetle would be there when it happened. Would eat before the creatures could be taken away. Would survive in it’s forest as it and it’s species had for many years. 

The beetle clicked it’s antennae again, shuffled its wings and flew. 

As it flew closer it’s antennae picked up the shape of them. Three men, one old and two young, yet only one of them big. Perhaps he was the alpha, beetle thought, settling onto the shoulder of the oldest man.

_ He surely is the weakest, I’ll make sure to be here when he dies.  _

Beetle studied the creatures. Humans, dressed strangely and walking about in the middle of neighboring stag beetle territory.  _ Strange, but things are strange enough these days.  _ The old man seemed to be trotting along healthily, however, Beetle and his impressive antennae couldn’t detect any shortness of breath, nor any fatigue. The man seemed to be talking, jovially speaking with the other two; one of the men small and bespectacled, a thin figure in black human clothes that seemed to be too shiny, too stiff for the forest. The other, Beetle saw, the presumed leader, was white haired, muscle sitting heavily on a large frame. 

Beetle settled himself into the collar of the old mans’ shirt. He would wait here. He had wasted his chance with the other human. He would try to learn patience today. 

……………………….

Kite could barely register the passing of time. He simply did not have the mental capacity for it. It was bright out when it was bright. Dark when the universe decided it was time for it. Cold and hot followed that same simple design. All Kite had to focus on was dragging himself along. 

  
Handful after handful of gritted white sand. He had thought the sand had been red once, yet as soon as the thought lazily circled about his mind he abandoned it. He focused instead on the feeling of sand as it caressed his bare chest. It was harsh. Dry. He coughed, trying to free himself from some of the fine white dust that had caked over his tongue. As soon as the sound left his body, he regretted it.His ribs seemed to explode with the sudden jostling, and despite the encroaching darkness, his vision blackened further. Stars he couldn’t name exploded before his vision and he found himself halting, nose buried in the dirt to wait for his vision to clear. 

  
  


“Hello?” Came a voice in the dark. Not more than a dozen feet away. 

_ Something was rustling nearby. Something moving in the dark.  _ Kite stiffened, unconsciously flattening his body. He stifled another cough, hand clasped firmly over the sunburned surface of his lips. 

“Hello?” Came that voice again. It sounded familiar, yet Kite couldn’t place it. A name swirled about his head, too far away for his fingers to catch or claw at it. 

“There’s someone over here!” Came that voice again and this time it was accompanied by the sound of many pairs of feet, each tossing up more hated sand. Getting closer. Drawing nearer to where Kite lay huddled against the desert floor. 

_ I guess this is as good a way to go as any. No way I’ll let them catch me in the back.  _

With that thought, Kite was pushing himself back up, standing on shaking legs with barely-there strength. He roared, a high and keening sound, fiercer than he felt. Yet he was having trouble lifting his head, all his energy focused on keeping his knees locked beneath him lest he fall. He faltered, nearly pitching forward and back before he found his footing again. Three figures approached him, Kite strained to focus his vision and found he could not; the figures doubling and tripling in his blurry sights before returning to their original number. Kite squinted, fighting to look through the sheaf of tangled hair that had fallen into his eyes. 

“Woah there friend, calm down. Are you a hunter?” That voice again. Deep and almost gravelled. 

_ Hunter? How would an ant know what a Hunter is? Did they catch Gon and Killua? _

The blurred figure stepped closer to Kite, one arm outstretched. Despite his poor vision, Kite could see that the arm was thickly muscled, skin the browned tone of a sailor. Yet the pale creature had possessed humanoid limbs too. Had acted and appeared  _ so human. _

Kite growled, teeth bared. He formed a fist and scarcely aiming, windmilled a punch where the humanoid creatures head seemed to be. The creature, whatever it was, seemed to be fast and deftly moved out of the way; Kite’s fist whistling aimlessly through the darkness. And then he was falling, eyes rolling back even as he tumbled to the dirt. 

_ Damn.  _

_ I’m sorry Gon, Killua. I should have been better.  _

He managed to hang on to consciousness, fighting against the rolling tides of blackness that swam this way and that across his vision. Teeth ground together in resistance. He would not pass out again, had done so after his last fight and would not allow it. He held his consciousness tightly, knuckles white and biting maroon crescents into the calloused skin of his palms. 

He could hear the figures discussing something, talking over him. He felt big arms, hard and wide as oak boughs, wrap themselves around his waist and haul him from the dirt. Felt with distant embarrassment as he was tossed over a shoulder. 

Kite cracked an eye open, found that his vision did little to improve. It took a moment, open eye fighting hard to focus in the dim light. When he finally managed to harness his vision, who else’s face swam before his eyes? 

High white ponytail over a bald head, eyes big and creased at the corners with mirth. Kite found himself laughing out loud. What sort of ants were they breeding out here that could mimic the appearance of  _ Isaac Netero?  _

……………………………………….

As he was hauled roughly across the reaches of the desert, tossed almost carelessly across Morel’sl back, Kite found himself studying the grasses and sands as they flashed by. His body was nothing but a series of chills and wracking aches that seemed to course from his head to his toes. He was grateful that Morel wasn’t handling him with the exaggerated care Knov and Netero had suggested, both of the men groaning with exasperation when the large man had simply tossed Kite back over a muscled shoulder. Given the screaming ache of Kite’s right shoulder and the raw embarrassment of being found crawling on his hands and knees, Kite thought if he’d been handled like a swaddled invalid he would have simply died of shame. 

Maybe Morel knew that, Kite mused, sands flashing by in blurry transition before his eyes. He felt a rise of nausea and clamped his teeth down to halt it, the sockets of his missing teeth screaming in protest. 

_ Dear God, I’ll forgive you for everything. Just please don’t let me barf.  _

Kite closed his eyes and laid his sweating forehead against the small of Morels’ back. 

…………………………………………….

By some miracle, Kite managed to stay conscious, eyes cracked and skin clammy throughout the truck ride back to civilization. He lay awake and speaking, beneath the many blankets Spin had fussily piled on him, his voice low and steady despite the many shakes and bumps of the road. Kite detailed everything he and the boys had seen during their journey. He skipped nothing, leaving out no details lest they be vital to Morel, who sat still as stone and listening intently. Kite knew that his dedication to his story was partially out of necessity… if he died somewhere between the NGL and a Hunters Association meeting (which, according to his aches and the bone-deep chill that rattled his teeth, was a very likely outcome), Morel and the others would have to rely only on Gon and Killlua. 

He didn’t want that to happen. 

He had been a young hunter once, knew that hunters condescended and disbelieved children. They couldn’t help it, but in this case that sort of foolishness would surely lead to at least one death and all sorts of unnamed hardship and harassment for the boys. Knowing this, Kite had simply grit his teeth and soldiered through his tale. 

As altruistic as his intentions may be, Kite had to admit that another part of him simply covered the details out of guilt. Morel had been sent back. Sent back because of him, away from the mission and out of the game for the time being. He  _ knew  _ Morel, however remotely, but the big man was famously garrulous and energetic… yet throughout the entire truck ride he had scarcely spoken at all. Kite understood that Morel wasn’t angry with him, knew that Morel was a man who could be counted on to leave no hunter behind… yet still a hunting expedition with Chairman Netero was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Yet he, Kite had spoiled that for him. The thought left a residue of guilt, despite Kite’s gratitude for his safety. And so, keeping these debts in mind, Kite had delved into the details of his fight with the cat creature with as much gusto as his bruised and aching body could handle; sparing no details. 

He told Morel, voice cracking with fever, of the creatures raw power. Of how it had taken his right arm with it’s claws before he’d even had time to react. Told him even of how the creature had allowed him to live, had simply looked at him with it’s huge mirror-like eyes until he’d blacked out in the dusk. 

It had been embarrassing to say the least, and despite his fever and his pains, Kite found himself blushing furiously as he told Morel of how the creature had caught him by the hair, of how the creature had waited for him to weaken, had taken advantage of his weapon and crushed his teeth with it’s heel. Throughout the story, Morel said little, only sparing baritone encouragement to continue when Kite paused; the tanned mans’ responses all in small hums and grunts of affirmation. 

Kite talked for what seemed like hours, details minced over and re-addressed according to Morels’ reticent questioning. Kite talked and talked, of coordinates, of known Chimera ant hybrids still alive and of unknown power, of the ant mannerisms he could confirm as active. He spoke until his voice was hoarse and then spoke until it was gone. When finally his story was done, he drifted off to an uncomfortable sleep, dozing and waking amidst the pitches and bumps of the trucks movement. 

_ It feels like we’ve been speeding this entire time.  _

_ Funny…...I’ll bet Spinner is throwing a real fit up front for Stick to drive this way.  _

_ I wonder what she’s so concerned about…….. _

  
  


_ ………………………………………… _

Kite cracked open an eye with what felt like every bit of strength held in his gaunt body. The sun, filtering white and blazing hot through Kite’s eyelashes was like a brand straight to his brain. Kite snapped his eyes shut, moaning and cursing at the suns’ strength. Kite struggled to raise his right arm, desperate to cover his eyes for relief. 

Nothing. 

  
Kite tried to move his arm again, but to no avail. He summoned his courage, splitting open an eye that felt as though it were full of sand and looked over, expecting to see his arm weighted down, or maybe just too tired to move. He found instead only a stump, tightly tied and swathed in bandages. Kite fought down the rising teeth of panic for a moment, his eyes flying open to stare at where his arm  _ should have been,  _ to where his arm  _ was not that long ago.  _ It took him a moment, but eventually the last two days replayed themselves in hazy relief. 

  
Kite groaned, sinking back against pillows that felt too soft, yet stiff and antiseptic. He tossed his right hand over his eyes, working to blot out a sun that beat strong and bright into the white room, despite the drawn shades. 

_ The hospital.  _

_ I must be in the hospital, huh? _

Well, it certainly made sense. The antiseptic air, the distant smells of alcohol and illness, the bright white of the room. He supposed they had made it back to civilization after all. 

_ I wonder how Spinner and the boys are holding up. I’m sure they must be sick to death.  _

He would get up soon. He would get up and go find them, assure them that he was fine. It was the least he could do for worrying them so much. He thought again of how the truck had bounced and bounded along the road home, cracked a smile at the thought of Spinner shouting at poor Stick to drive faster. 

  
_ I’ll have to buy the poor guy a meal later, it’s hard to fight Spin on anything once she’s got a thought in her head.  _

He would talk to them soon, but for now he felt light, too light and abuzz with some foreign sensation not unlike being pleasantly buried alive in cotton. He wondered how much anesthesia they had given him. When he leaned back with his full weight against the pillows he seemed to zoom back an impossible distance, body feeling as though it were falling for miles before his shoulder settled into the antiseptic depths of the pillows. 

_ Ah, so a lot then. A lot of drugs.  _

The thought was so hilarious in that moment that Kite was overcome with laughter, a high giggling tone that seemed alien on his lips. He opened his eyes again, the suns barrage now no more than a bare irritant, and his laughter died instantly. 

There was a panda here. 

Sitting on an otherwise empty seat in an otherwise empty room. 

  
Not just any panda.  _ That  _ panda.  _ Gings  _ panda. 

The ridiculous stuffed bear he used to skip out of meetings. The stupid, enormous stuffed  _ thing  _ that the tiny man had always resolutely  _ insisted  _ was  _ absolutely necessary _ as a token of good business. 

That meant Ging was here. Or had at least been here recently. 

That high rise of panic hit his throat again, raw and edged with the copper taste of adrenaline. In a flurry of movement, he was up; tossing his feet over the edge of the hospital bed and nearly falling, legs weak. Kite cursed and hauled himself up, leaning on the IV pole for support as he hobbled to the door. The drugs that clouded at his mind and at his limbs receded with his panic, settling back to numb his hands and settle his thoughts behind a haze. 

_ I need to get up and find my clothes again. Need to get presentable for when Ging returns.  _

Ging  _ did things like that. _ Like sneaking in and leaving a token that he had been there. Kite had seen enough injured hunters to know that Ging would always grouse about  _ never _ visiting the weak; about how it wasn’t his  _ responsibility  _ to make them  _ feel better  _ about a defeat. 

  
Well, Ging had obviously been here and him leaving the token panda was obviously meant to be a sign. An “ _ I’ll come back Kite and we’ll have to talk about it all” _ kind of sign. Kite shuddered, he didn’t think he could tolerate being in a backless hospital gown and laid up like some sort of ghoul when Ging returned; it would surely make things worse. Make Ging look down on him more than he already did. 

Kite reached for the doorknob of his hospital room, only to watch with horror as the knob twisted and swung open before he could reach it. 

  
  


The door swung inwards, catching Kite in it’s arc of germless fluorescent light and revealing two short figures. 

“KITE!!” A familiar voice shouted, and Kite felt himself being flung backwards with such force that it squeezed the breath from his already bruised lungs. 

_ Gon.  _

The boy was beaming up at him, those big brown eyes already overflowing with tears; his arms wrapped around Kite’s thin waist in a crushing hug. 

_ When did he get so strong? _


	3. Wrath

Neferpitou growled, somewhere low and deep in their throat. It was a sound that had not once failed to summon results, sending scrub ants scurrying to and fro to fetch and placate and fawn over the royal guard. The reverent, fearful attention was growing stifling. 

  
_ Everything  _ was growing stifling. 

Neferpitou had sat, numb and bored within the colony for more than 9 days. Waiting, watching the lower ants buffoon about in some mocking semblance of  _ combat.  _ They were graceless, a smattering of fools; creatures so accustomed to relying on their brute strength and abilities that they ceased to bother with the basics of combat. Yet it was somehow Neferpitou’s job to supervise them, to sit and watch with wan expression beside that bird-like ant… what was his name again?  _ Carl? Cory?  _ Neferpitou flicked their tail with irritation, one eyebrow turning downwards in ire. 

  
It didn’t matter. Whatever his name happened to be, he was a poor teacher and Pitou grew tired of watching the drunken steps of their kin marching around in pretend combat. As had grown to be their habit, Neferpitou reached up to where the blue cap sat perched on their waves of hair, subconsciously needling a claw along it’s brim. 

They were desperate to be outside, to be free from the cloying and stale air of the ant hill, yet they could not. They would have to wait for the King to be born, or at the very least, for another Royal Guard to emerge. 

Neferpitou sighed and slipped the cap to cover their eyes. Tail marking a worried pace to and fro, the cat creature settled back, attempting to sleep. 

………………………………..

It had taken some doing, but at last it was done. Kite had insisted, begged and fought to be free of that damned hospital and at last it was done. His shoulder was bandaged tightly, the right sleeve neatly pinned to prevent the empty sleeve from fluttering about. 

He had a bag of medications (too many, he thought) which clicked and rattled in his luggage as he walked, and he had too many concerned voices that had fawned and henpecked him until he had felt stifled and trapped, but now he was free. Free and wandering the  _ outside  _ enjoying the high summer air of the city as it blew through his hair and over his skin. Kite closed his eyes, relishing the sensation of being free of those fluorescent lights, under the sun and the clear air again. 

He would be staying in a hotel, apparently, some sort of long-stay affair with the likes of Bisky and the boys. Morel had scribbled down the address on some scrap of paper before he’d departed for the NGL, muttering something about a student of Knov’s being along for the stay. Kite glanced down at the crumpled bit of paper in his hand, frowning as he worked to decipher Morel’s messy handwriting. 

_ It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll be there for what… one day? Two?  _

He would be travelling back to the NGL, travelling back to the spot where he had faced the Cat demon. Morel had warned him against it, of course; damn near everyone had. Kite had not pegged himself a stubborn man, nor had he ever been willfully obstinate… but this was  _ different. _

Kite reached up, fingers unconsciously brushing at naked air to adjust his cap. He caught himself, tightening the fingers of his left hand into a fist. 

…………………………..……

Pitou sat still as stone on the ledge of the anthill, sniffing the air. Their tail twitched, marking an unconsciously lazy line through the air. 

_ It’s been how many days meow?  _

_ Too many.  _

_ Purrhaps he died?  _

Pitou shook their head, white curls bouncing against their cheeks, catching in the slight summer wind. They could wait,  _ would  _ wait, in fact. They were an impatient creature, that they knew for certain, but this? This was different. This was a matter of playing the long game, a runabout game of cat and mouse that they would not tolerate losing. 

They had the natural advantage, that they knew. Were stronger and faster and perhaps even more clever than the white haired man. They had tested this. Had grown tired of seeing the birdlike ant want for their approval and had simply tested their strength against that of the other ants. It had been no contest, and even now Pitou gauged that the foolish birdlike captain would still be sweeping up the litter of bodies that lay in their wake on the training field. 

_ Serves them right.  _

The summer breeze picked up and Neferpitou closed their wide eyes, leaning in to the wind, nose testing at the many and varied smells that drifted there. It had grown to be a habit of late, testing the wind, waiting for a return. 

Somehow their eagerness to see the human man again concerned them. It was not quite a  _ yearning,  _ they had justified to themselves; rather it was an  _ excitement.  _ They were young and had fought few battles that had truly tested them. Had met few creatures that had broken the endless pane of boredom that stretched across their short life. 

It was only that. The man was a  _ toy  _ and a damned good one. They thought that the next time they met they would raise the stakes. Surely in a fight Neferpitou would win… what more could they gain from a toy? 

In the rising wind, Neferpitou thought, long and hard. 

__

………………………………….

Ging was absolutely impossible sometimes, Kite thought, silver brows turning down in frustration and distain. 

No, scratch that. Ging is purposely insufferable for the sole purpose of being a nuisance. 

The man, as short and gruff and surly as he was, could also be an impeccable charmer. Kite didn't know what to think of him; hell he didn't think he ever had known what to think of him. Kite mused about all of this, all of the baggage that came with travelling with Ging, while maintaining his trademark icy stare. Given the current situation, it wasn't a difficult feat to achieve. Kite presently, and to his deep chagrin, sat tucked into a tacky corner booth; the red pleather seat just as sticky and dirty and tacky as the rest of the bar and it's patrons. The music was too loud, steel guitar pitched to an earpiercing wail that only highlighted the static frizz of the dying speakers it played on, droning on to serve only as a sleazy soundtrack to the too-fried patrons that danced and grinded on the bar floor. Neon lights frizzled and spat above him on the walls, too-bright pinks and reds and greens casting their glow on Kite's silver hair; making him look like an eclectic splash of wall decor. He thought that maybe if he sat, very still and very quiet, the world would move on without him. Maybe he would peel himself away from the wall in fifty years; unattached, rested and in new space. 

Kite wrinkled his nose, balling up his straw paper and flicking it into the turmoil on the dance floor with distaste. What a stupid thought. The crumpled white speck sailed and disappeared into the heaving sea of bodies below. The crowd was so great that it seemed to breath and heave like a living thing; the bodies straining against the steel ropes that surrounded the bars' stairwell and booths. Kite felt almost like a castaway, floating in his little red booth on it's little platform in the dusted corner of the bar. 

"This time I'll stand up to Ging," Kite spoke to himself, voice a high mocking falsetto, barely audible beneath the booming music. "This time I'll stand firm and tell him we won't do anything stupid or wasteful or tacky!" . He had  _ begged  _ for Ging to leave him be. He’d had things to  _ do,  _ had items to pack for the return trip to the NGL. Kite knew how everyone else felt about it, had seen the uncomfortable, pitying looks the other Hunters shared each time Kite had mentioned his desire to travel with them, to help take out the Chimera Ants. None of the other hunters would say a word, would only pointedly avoid looking at the bandaged stump where his right arm had once been. Rather than saying anything, rather than trying to talk to him about his previous trip, Kite’s fellow hunters had resorted to methods infinitely more frustrating. They had fallen to trying to  _ cheer him up  _ and  _ cheer him on;  _ somehow certain that Kite’s insistence on returning was a matter of pride. _. _ The hunters’ methods growing increasingly more foolish day by day.

As though to highlight this point, a head of dark, spiky hair bobbed and swam through the sea of sweaty limbs churning on the dance floor. The dark nest of hair jumped and bobbed in the mayhem and Kite watched, bemused as it seemed to swirl under; like a swimmer caught in the undertow. He stared, eyes half lidded, as a calloused hand surfaced in the crowd, wavering in the air for a moment like the last chapter of a drowning mans' career, before hitting the shoulder of a large and burly crowdgoer. The hand met denim-clad shoulder with a meaty slap, and then the figure was climbing. That calloused hand gripped at first one garment and then another, crowdgoers shouting in protest and offense as Ging pulled himself along, hauling himself over the packed crowd. Kite crossed one long leg over the other, surveying the scene with muted interest, fingers chasing the straw of his too-watery soda around in circles as Ging climbed, hand over foot to stand on the crowd.

Then the man was jumping, leaving big dirty boot prints on shoulders and backs as he seemed to run across the crowd. When he reached the platform, he halted, arms thrown out for balance as he stood on some poor womans' shoulder, his left boot perched precariously on the neck of a man who seemed to be too tall, too burly to fit in the bar, much less on the dancefloor. 

  
  


_ I can’t believe he snatched me from the hotel for  _ this, Kite thought, chin perched in the palm of his hand. Ging had scarcely even looked at Gon, had certainly not even  _ addressed  _ the boy, instead simply striding in to the shared space they had all formed together and snatching Kite out by the collar of his turtleneck. It bothered him, had rankled at his nerves all evening. 

_ Gon is a good kid. What makes me worth Gings attention and not him?  _

The thought had made lazy circles throughout Kite’s mind all night, working at his tired brain as he had sat in this foolish sticky booth, listening to foolish tacky music and watching foolish tacky people. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair, as much as he admired Ging, that he should be here, earning Gings attention and pity. The thought hurt, of course it had. Ging had  _ saved him,  _ had rescued him from a curs life in a filthy sewer; he had searched for  _ years  _ for the short little man, just to earn a modicum of his respect. 

Yet still, right was right. Wrong was wrong. 

Kite turned his attention back to Ging and the musclebound man. They were in a shouting contest, the huge man with a bunch of Gings’ shirt clutched in one ham-like fist. Ging, small and feisty as he was, had his nose resolutely pushed into the air, waving one finger before the mans face. Kite wasn’t concerned, if anything, Ging was resisting beating the man to a pulp. Yet watching this, watching another foolish scene unfold was nothing more than tiresome. Kite felt a weight settle upon his shoulders, heavy and thick with melancholy. 

_ Everything here is so silly. Everything so…. Fake.  _

His fight with the Cat demon had not been. Had not been so tiresome nor irksome in it’s typicality. Kite had never felt at one with human society; had faked it with tensed smiles since he had become Gings’ apprentice. The fatigue of this, the exhaustion of a lifetime of faking it seemed to settle upon him, crushing his thin shoulders until he wanted nothing more than to sleep. To sleep or scream and tear his silver hair from his head. Kite’s chest tightened. The air seemed to thick here, too  _ dirty,  _ too full of the foolish comings and goings of a society too far from nature. 

Kite heaved a breath from his chest and rose too quickly, smacking his head against the low-hanging lip of a dangling chandelier light. He felt the metalwork snag at his hair, bite at his scalp. 

He bolted. 

Somewhere from the dance floor, tunic still caught in the fist of the ballroom bruiser, Ging shouted for him. Kite was already out the door, words stopping harmlessly as the door swung shut behind him. He took a deep breath, light chill of the air invading his lungs, expanding them, free from the stifling odors of sweat and booze and violence that had crowded inside. 

He took resolute steps back in the direction he thought his hotel had been. He would be going, despite the protests from nigh-close to everyone. He would know what his life was worth, would earn his dignity back from the pitying looks of everyone in this damned city. 

His boots echoed lightly against the cobblestones as he marched through the darkened streets. 

…………………….

Kite paced the halls of the hotel before gathering his courage. He stood in front of the door and slowly, slowly, turned the door handle, pushing the door open with a creak. 

_ Please let them all be asleep, I don’t think I’ll have time to- _

His thought was interrupted at once by the pitter-patter of feet as someone barrelled towards the door. 

“Kite!” A high voice cried. Gon pushed the door open, face shining. “How was your night out! What did Ging say? Is he coming back? Is he here? What did you two do?”

Kites’ heart tanked at the boys’ excitement. A million different responses to his rapid-fire questions crossed his mind, each of them disregarded as too light, too jovial, too serious. None of them  _ right  _ to tell the boy what he was about to do. Instead, Kite simply laid a hand on Gons’ shoulder, gently pushing him out of the way. 

The little boy, excitement peaking as Kite stepped through the door of the plush hotel, quickly grew panicked as soon as Kite began shoving his belongings into his well-bashed suitcase, white brows furrowed together. 

“Kite! Please, you just got here, don’t go!” Gon shouted, hooking two arms resolutely around Kite’s bicep, attempting to stop him from packing. Gon might be strong, but he was certainly light, and Kite had no trouble packing his bags, dragging the boy to and fro across the room. It had been easy to shut down at first, easy to ignore the boy as his little heels had dragged across the carpet, desperate to stop him. It was only when Kite heard the tears in his voice that he had to stop. 

He found it impossible to meet Gons’ eyes, those huge hazel eyes that looked so much like Ging’s. Yet he had still felt them, the boys’ stare so intense that Kite thought he might be burning a hole right through him. Kite had no response, couldn’t even look at Gon, instead he had fixed his stare upon the floor, jaw clenched tight. It was Killua who finally stepped up. Killua, wise beyond his years and standing silent as a stone, who crossed the room, who pulled Gons hands free of Kite’s arm. 

  
Killua who looked at him with a disdain. Kite couldn’t blame him. Gon had lost a lot already, hell his own  _ father  _ had come and gone, treating the boy as though he were invisible. Now Kite was leaving too. Leaving on some fools errand to fetch back some of the dignity he had lost. He had nothing to give the boy either. No trinket to mark that he was here, no gift to tell the boy how much he actually meant to Kite. 

Kite dragged his gaze away from the carpet and looked at the Freecs boy again. He was crying, big fat tears marking tracks down to his little pointed chin. Kite felt his heart fracture at that and knelt, one skinny knee settling onto the floor before Gon. 

He laid his hand on one of Gons’ shoulders, meeting the boys tear-filled eyes. “Gon, I’m sorry.” Kite started, voice strong. He halted, unsure of what to say next. He searched for a moment, seconds stretching in awkward time. “I’ll be back. You’re a good kid, take care of Killua and the others.” Kite finished lamely.

Kite stood, hand moving up to ghost over where the brim of his cap should be, instead catching just a few strands of his hair. He sighed, brushing his hand over his eyes before taking his suitcase and striding out the door. 

He had a train to catch. Had a truck to hire. 

He had to go back. 

  
  


…………………………………………

Neferpitou sat out at the ledge again, tail swiping through the air. Every once in a while, another ant would dare to approach, would try to ask of them some lame question, some foolish request. All it took to make them scatter each time was for Neferpitou’s tail to stop. To stop and swish low and dangerous as a stalking beast. Their voices would halt then. Sometimes the braver ones would try and stammer out a request before eventually beating a hasty retreat. Simple. Simple traits. Simple minds. Simple fools feeding off of weaker fools. 

Neferpitou was tired. 

They had made a few treks out, had eventually worked up enough frustration and ireful boredom to justify leaving to “scout the area”. It had been nothing but a ruse of course, and a poor one. Neferpitou had done nothing more than run, taking off through the wilderness, extending their  _ en  _ to seek anything, any _ one  _ of power. They had thought they’d felt something, once or twice, a dim blip on their radar, yet investigations had found nothing. It was enough to make them want to scream. They wondered if humans had found this place yet, wondered if they were somehow out there, more rares clambering quietly about in the woods. 

Neferpitou sighed and scrubbed a clawed hand over their face. 

_ I’ll go hunting again tonight.  _

It had been one of the few things that had helped to cut the boredom. Imagined hunting from the perspective of Pitou’s weaker ancestors. They would stalk and chase and bite at prey, holding back as much as they could to lengthen the game. It had been good fun for a little while, now it was simply all they had to keep from screaming. 

…………..

When the moon was at it’s highest, Neferpitou slipped, unseen from the anthill. The night was warm and mild and as they crept through the dense cover of trees and brush, they felt a weight lift from their shoulders. They never realized how  _ suffocating  _ it felt to be trapped inside until they were out, shoulders stiffened under the pressures within the ant hill working loose until they felt almost normal again. Pitou stretched, digging claws into the earth and loosening their shoulders and back with a series of satisfying  _ pops;  _ then, with a swish of their tail they were off and running.

Branches and the outstretched twigs of the underbrush reached out to snag at Pitou, bouncing harmlessly off of their face and clothes as they sprinted along the forest floor, clawed hands sinking in the soft earth and feet kicking up leaves and dust in their wake. They didn’t smell the humans until they were almost on top of them, catching themselves short and kicking up more dirt as they slid to a stop in the brush, diving into a thick tangle of leaves and branches. Pitou’s heart beat hard in their chest. They cautioned a look, pushing aside the leaves of their cover to peek through.

Three humans stood just a few meters away, frozen and listening. Pitou cursed silently, it was obvious that the humans here had heard their approach. The largest human, what looked to be a man, arm splayed out in a  _ stop here  _ motion ahead of his companions; a smaller human woman and a child, held in the human womans’ arms. Pitou’s ears twitched in interest. They were travelers, that much was obvious based on their lightweight stained garments; the woman in trousers and a cotton vest, the man and child in matching sleeved shirts and heavy workpants. The human man carried what seemed to be a heavy pack, covered in all array of blankets, pots and pans, all tied tightly and bundled against the pack to prevent them from shifting and making noise. The woman, carried a lighter bundle which smelled strongly of food; the child tied against her body with rounds of blankets and rags. 

_ They must be making a break for it.  _ Pitou thought, tail twitching back and forth in the cover of the bushes.  _ Fairly talented too, to avoid being caught until meow.  _

The man, tall for a human with a thick beard that hung braided and heavy down to his chest, was still listening. He stood, stock still and arm still up to hold his companions (  _ his family, _ Pitou mentally corrected) at bay. Finally, Pitou watched the man relax, waving the female human forward, where she cautiously stepped in behind her male companion, casting wary glances about. 

Pitou held their breath as the humans continued their trek, passing mere inches from where the cat creature sat hidden and waiting. Pitou allowed themself to sniff at their scent, delicate nose twitching.  _ Spices and sweat and the scent of fermented vegetables, hidden under something….  _ The humans, as delicious as they smelled, were scarcely perceptible, even to Neferpitou _. They must have covered themselves in mud and swamp mosses to hide their scents,  _ Neferpitou thought, clawed thumb working its way unconsciously to play at their bottom lip,  _ They’re clever.  _ It would not be an easy scent to track, and Neferpitou felt themselves lose the smell of the humans as they passed by. 

It would be fun.  _ Good fun.  _

As the humans disappeared in the thick press of the forest, Neferpitou crept from the brush and followed, body stretched lean and prowling along the ground. 

…………………………………………..

It had been hours upon hours of following the humans along their trek. Neferpitou, eyes bright, watched from the trees far above, the humans now-miniature sized and still making their careful way through the forest. They had not stopped to rest, the small human group instead beating a tireless path throughout the night, pausing time and again at any small sound, muscles tensed and waiting. Pitou was sure the humans had heard them once or twice, despite their careful and near-silent movements. 

  
The human male was  _ good _ , and Pitou found themself sneaking, unable to drop their guard throughout the night. They were almost to the end of the forest and Pitou turned to look at the vast expanse of desert that lay between them and the borders of this land. 

_ I wonder if they’ll make it.  _

As though to answer the question, a sudden rise of voices shook Neferpitou from their thoughts. They looked back down, peering through the thick push of the leaves and the darkness of the night to see that the humans had heard it as well. They stood, paused and waiting, the woman with one foot still hovering in middair. 

A high, barking laugh broke the silence and the humans swirled into action. The human woman broke from where she stood and dove into the thick cover of the trees, Neferpitou lost sight of her for a moment but found her location again. She sat, crouched in the cover of an enormous oak tree above a deep ditch. She was fussing with something and as Neferpitou focused their eyes they saw it was a small bow. The woman, bow clutched in one hand, deftly untied the child from where they had sat bundled against her chest, the womans’ dark eyes never leaving the clearing. The child, awakened by the rough treatment, looked up, studying the woman. The child scarcely looked old enough to talk, body still chubby and soft, limbs clumsy. Yet it didn’t cry, Neferpitou noted, instead simply crawling to hide in the shadow of the tree. The woman took only a moment to cover the child with branches and leaves before moving, tracking slowly in a semicircle away from the oak, deftly stringing and notching an arrow to her bow. Pitou watched, ears twitching through the holes in their blue cap as the human woman melted into the shadows. 

There was another high barking laugh and Pitou realized they could pick up the distinct words of a conversation held in strange voices. One voice, high and querulous, the other a growl so low it’s individual words were almost lost. 

“I  _ told  _ you Colt wouldn’t find out” Said the high voice. 

“Why does he care so much about the meat anyway?” Came the low response. “It’s not like there isn’t plenty to go around.”

That high laugh came again then, shrill and sharp in the night air and Neferpitou watched with irritation as two chimera ants came into view between the boughs of the trees. From where they sat, quiet and still in the highest boughs, Neferpitou found that they could identify the two chimera ants immediately. Peadie and Cham. Flunkies from one of the condor-like commander Colts lowest divisions. These two had perhaps been twins once before, as in these forms they were near-identical. The twins, true to their nature, wore bodies that seemed to mimic hyenas; rough fur patterned in browns and tans that seemed to thin out over their strange limbs. Thick necks supported too-small doglike heads with lolling tongues and warped too-muscular bodies on short limbs. 

_ Idiots.  _ Neferpitou thought, watching the twin chimera ants with distaste. Pitou watched, tail flicking back and forth, as the two ants finally spotted the human man where he stood in the clearing, crouched low and waiting. Peadie, the low voiced ant, stopped short, causing Cham to bump into him. 

“What’s the big idea? Barked Cham in his too-high voice. “See something worth-”

Cham stopped speaking as he too spotted the human man, still dead silent and waiting. 

The silence was deafening, even from where Neferpitou sat crouched amongst the high boughs of the trees. It seemed that all movement in the clearing had halted, even the wind seemed to hold it’s breath, the grasses still in the lightening pre-dawn air. Then the human man was circling, deftly moving to the right, one foot carefully crossing the other, the mans’ eyes never leaving the ants as he carefully untied his heavy pack. Pitou tracked the human mans’ movements from where they sat, eyes huge and hungry. The humans’ pack hit the forest floor with a rattle as the pots and pans jostled against each other and then, like magic, the human man drew two hatchets from somewhere low on his belt. Eyes still locked firmly on the ants, the human deftly spun the axes, moonlight glinting off wicked steel. 

The sight of the axes seemed to awaken the twin chimera ants from their surprise and stupor. The ants shifted on their too-short legs, dog-like faces trading uneasy looks as they moved, splitting up and moving to either side of the human.  _ They’re nervous.  _ Pitou thought, watching as the two doglike ants began to circle the lone human.  _ Good, these two have always been good for nothing. A single human fails to shit themselves with fear and now they’ve lost their nerve… _ Despite this thought, Neferpitou had to admit that they could identify with the two oafs. The lack of fear, amongst  _ other things _ had certainly thrown them off their game during the fight with the long-haired human; it was  _ refreshing… exhilarating  _ to fight a creature with confidence. The feeling of fighting for their life had been something special; Neferpitou mused that they had tasted something then, something that had built an appetite in them. There was a flurry of movement below and Pitou shook their head, irritated at the distraction of their thoughts.

One of the twins, (Peadie, maybe?) was running, dashing towards the human man, one arm raised to swipe his thick claws through the humans’ chest. The man was already spinning by the time the ants’ clumsy arm had neared, one of the mans’ thickly muscled arms pushing the ants clawed hand up and away, harmlessly batting it aside. Then there was just a glinting of steel as one hatchet tore up and across the ants torso, slicing deeply and sending a shower of gore up to reflect red in the moonlight. There was a growl and then Cham was leaping, jumping with strong legs and catching the human from behind, the ant pinning the human to the earth with it’s superior weight. Neferpitou caught their breath as Cham locked the humans’ arms to the forest floor, jaws opening wider and wider to expose it’s rows of sharp canid teeth. 

_ Thunk thunk thunk _

Neferpitou blinked. Three arrows jutted from Cham’s snout and head, giving the ant the grotesque appearance of a dog losing a fight to a porcupine. Cham howled, high and miserable and pitiful, raising both hands to scratch and pull at the arrows, sending rivulets of bright blue blood rolling down the creatures face and neck. 

_ The woman!  _ Neferpitou thought, tearing their eyes away from where Cham stood, now shuffling about and nearly blind.  _ How clever.  _

Peadie, fool as he was, must have figured out that the human man had an ally. Pitou watched, half-impressed as the ant scrabbled to a stop in the grass, turning to look at the general direction the arrows had appeared from a moment before. Peadie did the mental math, gears grinding slowly in his addled brain, and then he was off; sprinting towards the forests edge, nose held high and sniffing for the human. He managed just a few steps before he was down and sprawling, brought down by the human male who had attached himself to the ants back and was working to pull the dog creature into some sort of leg lock. Pitou watched as the two struggled, sending up high puffs of dirt and sand, Cham still yelping and miserably pulling at his bloody face somewhere in the background. The human man managed to get one leg over the ants, locking the creature to the ground. One of the hatchets made an appearance again, briefly shining in the moonlight before burying itself deep in the chimera ants throat. Pitou was unmoved, even as the axe completed it’s arc again and again, squelching into the soft flesh of the creatures throat until it was nothing more than a soup of sticky fur and bone. 

The human man stood, breathing hard and wiping his hands at his workpants. His mate appeared, swiftly sprinting from the cover of the woods to bury more arrows in the remaining chimera ant. There was a muffled  _ thump _ as Chams’ body hit the forest floor, arrows protruding in grotesque fashion from his muzzle, throat and eyes. 

_ They are certainly talented,  _ Neferpitou mused from their perch,  _ What I wouldn’t give to replace some of our most inept soldiers with humans. _

It was growing lighter now, the sun just edging out over the horizon. Pitou relaxed, kicking one leg over the limb of the great tree where they sat, settling down and placing their chin in the palm of one hand. They watched as the human couple gathered their items, checking each other for any signs of injury and retrieving their young from where they sat sleeping beneath their pile of sticks and leaves. The humans carefully skirted the bodies of the chimera ants, avoidant lest one of the heads turn to bite. Cham, poor, stupid thing, was clearly dead; blue blood dripping from his still bared fangs. Peadie, however, still clung to life; his head moving and lolling about, eyes roving skyward. 

  
Neferpitou watched, a bit miffed at the creatures’ lack of self respect. It was almost nauseating, Pitou thought, the way that the ants tongue lapped at sand, eyes bloodshot and scanning the treeline. The half-dead creature that had once been Peadie seemed to freeze, bloodshot red eyes locked just above where Pitou sat hidden in the trees. 

_ No way.  _

_ No way that stupid fool would spot me-owt at a time like this.  _

Peadie, the stupid fool, apparently had. Pitou watched in mute horror as the creature opened it’s mouth wide, a guttural howl spewing blood and viscerae through his white teeth. The humans, now nearly to the edge of the clearing, froze. Pitou’s heart dropped as the humans turned back to investigate. 

_ They were so close. Give up looking for me and I’ll let you three fleshy little fools go free.  _

The thought of killing these humans seemed… a  _ waste,  _ not unlike Neferpitou’s fight with the long haired human. It seemed, cruel wasn’t the right word, more a foolishness to end their lives when they had already proven their worth in surviving this world. Pitou waited, holding their breath as the human couple stood around Peadies’ dismembered head; his eyes still locked high on the tree line. 

_ Don’t do it, don’t look up you stupid, stupid little mortals.  _

Peadies high wail was still reverberating on the wind, an ill sound that carried unease. And then, as quickly as it started, it faded. The humans stepped aside, moving on with quick steps from where Peadie’s head still sat, a new hatchet wound seeping high above his eyebrows, eyes swollen and red in death looking blankly through where Neferpitou sat, watching. 


End file.
